


Welcome To The Dark Side of London (We have Biscuits & Tea)

by Anonymuse2



Series: Welcome to the Dark Side of Biscuits, Tea & London [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kind of dark, Sherlock AU, Tagging like Moftiss gives Clues, Takes place during S1, no regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7196549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymuse2/pseuds/Anonymuse2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murders have been happening around London.  The Met is out of their depth yet again.  Can Sherlock help them solve the crimes?</p><p>Based on the characters of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle & the Hartswood BBC Show Sherlock</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome To The Dark Side of London (We have Biscuits & Tea)

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags and know that I sometimes like to be cryptic like Moffat & Gatiss.
> 
> All events happen during Series 1 or days before Sherlock & John's first meeting.
> 
> Date/Time allocation is in relation to the incident immediately preceding. (eg January 6 3am-Prior is 3 months before the April 16 8pm-Present incident & the January 29 Early Afternoon-Following is following the January 6 8:45am-Same Day incident.) Where only time is given, know that the date is the same as the most recent date listed above it.

April 16 5pm-Present

Anderson slaps his forehead for the umpteenth time that month. He did not want to give Sherlock the satisfaction of solving another of their murders they came across but he was having no choice. Everything screamed hardly any foul play. The victims had no known enemies. No health conditions but obviously not natural causes for their deaths. The latest victim had a tiny pin prick on her neck just below the jaw line. It was easily missed by anyone. Anderson had noticed it and decided not to dismiss it. He made notes for the pathologist to do a toxicology screen for possible poisons entering at that spot on the body. He was wrapping up what he could do when the rain started. He grumbled and headed in the direction of Lestrade. “What number victim is this again? It’s odd how all of them seem normal and no reason for dying but are found dead, some in spots to be expected some not. They almost seem like a serial murder case but the deaths are almost all different. I suppose Sherlock’s been called in again.”

“Yes. He will be here soon. 5 minutes in when you were getting frustrated I texted John to see where they were at and told him to come to this place after waiting another 15 minutes before leaving. This is the second one this month and the eighth one this calendar year, let alone all of the ones from last year.” Lestrade was just as frustrated. The victims definitely had nothing in common. No common connections between any of them, no work, no school, no neighborhood nor place of worship. It was 4 months into the year. The first victim was found on January 6. Each subsequent victim was found 2 to 3 weeks after the prior victim. The rain was picking up. Tenting had been constructed as soon as the rain started. It was common to have the tenting up even when it wasn’t raining just because the rain seemed to come at the most inopportune times. Unfortunately today was not one of those days.

January 6 3am-Prior

“You will do as I say. You have no choice in the matter,” purred a baritone voice. It was firm yet somewhat gentle. The person saying it looked anything but gentle. There was a menacing gleam in his eye. He had just talked the person into a circle amazing her with his deductions about her life and how miserable it actually was all the while she wanted him to piss off. He grabbed the hypodermic needle and inserted the saline solution into the scab on her collar bone just above her Aorta. He angled the needle down to graze the aorta without rupturing it. He pushed in the plunger holding a 1000cc saline solution.

3:30am-Same Day

Sherlock picked up his violin and started the Overture to The Marriage of Figaro. He played for over an hour thinking of what do to next. His birthday had started out fun and he was hoping the rest of the day would be just as interesting. He put his violin down in its case and sauntered over to his sofa to reorganize his mind palace. It had been a couple of weeks since he had completed the task last and needed to take care of the 2 most recent cases he had helped the Met with.

8:15am-Same Day

“Sherlock, Lestrade here. We have a body, no plausible cause of death visible. Suspected foul play as no known health issues were found. Will you come?”

“Yes, what’s the address?” Sherlock was excited. He always enjoyed the odd murders, they proved most interesting. He quickly changed into his suit and dashed out of his flat. He arrived about 20 minutes later.

8:45am-Same Day

“She was in a useless marriage. Her ring hadn’t been cleaned in months and was rarely pulled off her finger. Her husband is cheating on her and the other woman found out that he wasn’t single as he had said when she ran into the wife. The 2 had a fight. Pick her up and you’re likely to find the murder weapon. Gotta dash. Need to check on some experiments I have going at St. Bart’s. Laters.” Sherlock was off in a flourish. He had barely been at the crime scene 10 minutes before he was gone again. Lestrade just shook his head and went on to start searching for the mistress.

January 29 Early Afternoon-Following

“I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end.” Sherlock commented as he turned to look at John. “Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.” Sherlock finished with a false smile.

“Who said anything about flatmates?” John asked as he turned back to Sherlock from looking at Mike.

Putting on his greatcoat, “I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for and now here he is with an old friend. Not that difficult of a leap.” Wrapping his scarf around his neck, “Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. We’ll meet there tomorrow evening at 7 o’ clock. Sorry, gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.”

“Is that it? We’ve only just met and we’re gonna go look at a flat?”

“Problem?”

John smiles in disbelief, looks over to Mike before turning back to Sherlock. “We don’t know a thing about each other; I don’t know where we’re meeting; I don’t even know your name.”

“You’re an army doctor who’s been invalided home and not close to your family. You’re seeing a therapist who quite correctly thinks your limp is psychosomatic, I’m afraid. That’s enough to be going on don’t you think? The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is 2-2-1 B Baker Street.” Sherlock click-winks at John and turns to Mike, “Afternoon.”

January 6 10am-Prior

“Molly, has the Met dropped off the body from Lestrade’s crime scene yet? I want to get another look at the lady. ”

“Yes Sherlock, but why?”

“Obviously, I didn’t move the body at the crime scene so was not able to get a look at her backside. There might be some evidence that was missed knowing Anderson. By the way, you did lovely work yesterday on Mr. Johnson’s autopsy.” Molly blushed slightly at the praise for her work and willingly let Sherlock look at the newest body in her mortuary. Sherlock made quick work of looking at the body noting some longer hairs that were obviously not the victim’s. “Thank you Molly. Make sure Lestrade gets these hairs I found on the back of the victim. They belong to the widower’s lover I’m certain.”

January 30 7pm-Following

“Sherlock, please.” He replied to John.

“Sherlock, hello.” Mrs. Hudson hugged Sherlock before he stepped back and presented John to her.

“Mrs. Hudson, Doctor John Watson.”

“Come in dearies.” Mrs. Hudson stated as she gestured the boys in.

“Shall we?” Sherlock asked.

“Yeah,” Mrs. Hudson replied with a slight wink that only Sherlock noticed.

January 12 8am-Prior

A man is walking down Spur Rd alongside Buckingham Palace heading towards Victoria Memorial when he feels a prick in his right forearm near his elbow. 

January 15 5pm-Following

The same man is walking along The Mall when he feels another prick in his right forearm near the last one. He looks around and sees nothing out of the ordinary.

February 10 2pm-Following

“Sherlock, Lestrade here, we have another one. Just like January 6, no known anything. Will you come? Great see you in a bit.” Sherlock grabbed his coat and John. They were on their way to the next victim. The last one had been attributed to a cabbie with an aneurysm. This one will be interesting.

2:30pm-Same Day

“He had an undiagnosed medical condition. It was exacerbated by the high levels of sodium from the food he had been eating and his weight. It’s really not that hard to determine Lestrade. The autopsy should show that. Have Molly do it and she’ll give you a straight answer. This was a 4 at best.” Sherlock turned with his usual flourish and was off.

March 20 12:15am-Following

“Stop wiggling so much. You’re worse than a toddler not that I handle that age group much. It will hurt less if you stop moving. Here, have some more pain medication.” The squirming person had a mask held up to his face as he slowly went lax from the nitrous oxide he was breathing in. “Finally,” the baritone voice purred. He proceeded to create a stoma and inserted a breathing tube through the new opening. He quickly continued with his little operation in a dark back alley with only one way in or out and no windows. It was in a quiet, business part of London that was asleep for the night. The lips were cut along their outside line and carefully yet swiftly sewn together to create a fine seam. The outer skin was pulled together over the now sewn together lips and also stitched in the same speedy manner. He proceeded to take care of the nostrils in the same fashion followed by the eyes cutting just inside the lashes on each lid before sewing them together. When he finished, the person looked much like a doll with fine embroidered facial features. He proceeded to the ears and took out the ear drums and bones. After a cursory cleaning of the new wounds, he put bandages over them and inserted an IV feeding line into his patient’s left arm. Using some pop, he cleaned the ground of any blood. He then proceeded to put the ear pieces in the can with the remaining pop ensuring that they would dissolve from the amount of acid the beverage contained. He lifted up his victim and brought him to his most secret hiding place, Elizabeth Tower. It was one he used the least and most would doubt his use of it at all because of the noise. They would be mostly correct. He only used it when he needed to verbally vent as the chiming would drown him out. He would make sure to be in there for the quarter bells only as he didn’t want to go deaf when Big Ben chimed on the hour. The tower was closed to visitor anyhow for some routine maintenance work that was put on indefinite hold because of contractual issues. 

It would have to do for a few hours until the flatmate had gone to work and the latest victim could be brought home to be taken care of until the wounds healed. At least the landlady would help with that. She was good at nursing people back to health. She had such motherly ways about her.

February 6 4pm-Prior

Same man as January 12 walking along Whitehall. He was jabbed again in the right forearm as had been happening every few days since the first incident. He looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Mycroft happened to be in his above ground, non-Diogenes office looking out at the people walking by heading home. He would be doing the same in a couple of hours. He had 1 last meeting that would be starting in about 15 minutes. Mycroft saw the whole incident and had a smirk on his face. He knew by the victim’s look that the incident had happened before on more than 1 occasion and he knew who the perpetrator was. Of course he saw the perpetrator eye the target and attack all without being noticed. The disguise had been flawless as usual.

April 2 3pm-Following

The victim was being nursed back to health steadily. He had stopped struggling pretty early on after waking up on March 20 in a bed he did not recognize realizing that he couldn’t see, hear, or breathe normally. He felt the IV line jabbed in his arm grasping that he would not be able to eat normally either. He and the land lady had come up with a routine in those 13 days. She checked his IV every hour and helped him use the loo. She would give her tenant updates on the health of his latest victim. He would check in every couple of days depending on how busy he was. 

Today was one of those days. His flatmate would not be back from work for another couple of hours. He checked on his latest victim seeing how the stitches were healing up. The nostrils were ready to have their stitches removed. The eyes and lips still had a week to go it was looking like. “I will check back in 2-3 days on the rest of his stitches.” He stated as he removed the stitches from the nostrils. “Has he been behaving for you while I’ve been out?”

“Yes dear, quite well. We have a good routine going. He seems to trust me. So what will you do with him once he’s healed up?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I might give him to my brother as a present.”

January 30 Several minutes after 8pm-Prior

“You could have phoned me on my phone if you wanted to talk.”

“When one is avoiding Sherlock Holmes’ attention, one learns to be discreet, hence not your phone. He did use it yesterday to send a text after all. Wouldn’t want him seeing a recent call,” his voice being mostly calm. “The leg must be a bear, why don’t you sit.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“What’s your connection with Sherlock Homes?”

“I don’t have one. We just met…yesterday. Who are you anyway?”

“An interested party. The closest thing to a friend he’s capable of having. He’d probably consider me his enemy, arch-enemy at that. He does love to be dramatic.”

John replies sarcastically, “At least you’re above all that.”

“Do you plan to continue associating with Sherlock Holmes?”

“I might be wrong, but that is none of your business.”

“It could be.”

“It really couldn’t.”

“Well I am willing to pay you to a meaningful sum of money regularly.”

“Why? And in exchange for what?”

“Information. Nothing indiscreet. Just tell me what he’s up to as I worry about him constantly.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“But I would prefer for various reasons that my concerns go unmentioned as we have what might be called a difficult relationship.”

“No and don’t bother giving me a number.” John walked off and a few minutes later he’s heading back to Baker St.

March 15 6:30am-Following

“Lestrade, Anderson, Really, those are track marks! Small ones at that, but they are indeed track marks. I should know.” Sherlock rolls up his left sleeve showing the remnants of his own track marks from when he would shoot up. His were only slightly larger. “Check his system for drugs. He probably OD’d.”

March 23 2:45pm-Following

“Sherlock, what’s that over there?”

“Another currently nameless victim,” Sherlock replied nonchalantly as he noticed the latest victim had finally been discovered. The sixth victim of the year, he could tell just by looking at the body. He carefully did a visual examination while John phoned Lestrade. He would wait for the close-up examination once the Met arrived. At least the body was found after The Proms he had insisted that John needed to hear. It was amazing how many people saw but did not observe the body until John spotted it. It was in a grove of trees on the edge of the East Albert Lawn in Hyde Park. John had stated doctor’s orders on walking from Albert Hall to the Hard Rock Café as it was less than a mile away. Sherlock was thankful for that as it made an OK day interesting. It also delayed the inevitable dullness of eating food that was not his beloved fish and chips from the place on Marylebone Road. He put up with it only because he forced John into the concert of some of Vivaldi’s lesser played violin concertos. As for the newly found body, it had been there 2.5 days and counting. The decay was not completely visible yet due to the time of year, barely spring with an unexpected dusting of snow 4 days prior.

April 16 2am-Present

Sherlock picked up his violin and started playing the second movement to Haydn’s Symphony No. 94. He needed to think but not to the point of needing to compose. An idea came to him right as he landed on the final chord of the 16th bar. His only chagrin was that he didn’t have a full orchestra in the flat when he reached that chord. John, however, was very thankful for not having a full orchestra in his flat. He was startled awake the way it was when Sherlock reached that chord. He needed his sleep as he had to be at surgery in a few hours.

January 30 Evening At Baker St.- Prior

“That’s Jennifer Wilson’s Case.”

“Obviously and no I didn’t kill her as would be a perfectly logical conclusion based on the text I had you send and the fact that I have her case.”

“Do people assume you’re the murderer?”

“Now and then, yes.” What Sherlock wasn’t saying is that they might be right on rare occasion and that he might have lied moments ago.

March 7 7:30pm-Following

“What are you going to do to me?” The person was scared and feared for her life. She had every reason to be correct in that fear.

“Nothing that will torture you for long. The misery should be over quickly at least for you. Any of your associates, well that is a different matter; and your son, well…we will see what the courts have to say about that.” The baritone voice vibrated like a cello string. She was stunned silent, too afraid to utter a sound.

March 8 9am-The Next Day

“I’ve seen her before. Total goldfish, her son was in the fishing industry for a bit. He made you lot seem like post graduate science students. They had a nasty¬¬¬ falling out a few weeks back, considerably public; that’s how I know about them as I happened to be part of the public at that point in time. Rather tedious. The marks on her look like a harpoon, find him and you’re likely to find the murderer and the weapon. Now to do something more interesting. Laters.” Sherlock’s word flew off as he turned to leave. The less he gave the better as he came close to slipping up and he didn’t slip up on these particular cases.

April 16 4:45pm-Following

“So why aren’t we heading to wherever Graham is at?”

“Greg has asked us to wait a bit. He is giving his team time to ask for help knowing full well that they are at a loss.”

“So he’s giving Anderson time to muck up royally then. We should be heading there.”

“No Sherlock. We will wait. We can leave in 10 minutes and not a minute sooner. That’s a command or you will be off the case before you get there at Greg’s orders.” Sherlock sat down in a sulk.

January 30 8pm-Prior

“You know why he’s here? He gets off on it. One day showing up won’t be enough. One day we’ll be standing round a body and Sherlock Holmes’ll be the one who put it there.” Sherlock was still within ear shot and silently noted that Donovan didn’t know how right she was. He continued searching the nearby skips for the suitcase he had stowed a couple of hours earlier. He had solved the serial suicide case weeks ago completely by accident when he happened upon the guilty cabbie. It was obvious when he saw the guy. However, he decided not to end it at that point. Instead he made a deal with the cabbie for a 1 off murder of sorts only the cabbie had no idea it was for murder. The cabbie also didn’t realize that he was going to be framed for it as Sherlock made sure the cabbie didn’t realize he’d been caught. “He’s a psychopath and they get bored. My advice would be to stay away from that man.”

April 20 6am-Following

“Ms. Jones, do you know why you are here?”

“N-no sir.” She was nervous and had all rights to be.

“You were found guilty of your lover’s wife’s murder that occurred on January 6 of this year even though you claimed your innocence the whole time. I have a proposition for you that will do you well. Your choice is to either accept it, once it’s been explained, or return to prison with stipulations.” The voice was firm and commanded attention the whole time. “You first option is to do a mission for MI-6. You would have an RFID chip inserted just under the skin in your back so that I can monitor your whereabouts at all times. You would be placed in Saudi Arabia or Iran under cover of dark by yourself. You would be in short trousers and a t-shirt with no weapons, ID, or money. You will meet a contact whose information we will get you. If successful, we may have you do other missions. You would be in Her Majesty’s service until your death. Your other option is to go back to prison and be in solitary confinement with no possibility of parole. You would be given 3 meals a day and be essentially in the dark the rest of your living days. So which option do you chose?”

“You’re a psychopath, you know that.” She was essentially spitting venom.

“No I’m not, that’s my brother, the one who ensured you’d be found guilty of his crime.” He replied calmly. “I hold a minor position in the British Government. Unless you believe what my dear brother says, then I am the British Government. In some cases, such as this one, there isn’t much difference. Now I will need a response as I have a meeting with some foreign dignitaries in a few minutes. I don’t think you want me to choose for you as it will be less pleasant.”

April 16 2:30am-Present Day

Sherlock was getting bored. He left Baker Street in a rush needing to breathe in London’s air. He headed to Green Park and was there within 25 minutes. He found his victim considerably quickly for the time of night that it was. He grabbed her and had her over his shoulder so fast she had no idea what happened until the needle was inserted into her jugular vein. He left her body near some trees by the gate off Constitution Hill that led to the Canada Memorial.

February 26 1pm-Prior

Sherlock came waltzing into the mortuary with his usual flourish, “Molly, a month ago used asked me to coffee and I totally missed it. I was wondering if you wanted to pick up 2 cups, 1 for you and 1 for me, my usual of course, at the shop down the street. Here are a couple of tenners for you, grab something to eat for yourself as well. When you get back I’ll be in the lab and maybe we can discuss the latest case from the Met.”

Molly was shocked for a moment but grabbed the tenners and went off to grab the coffees with pleasure. What she didn’t know was that Sherlock was purposely trying to get her out of the mortuary for longer than a coffee run to Bart’s cafeteria would take. About a minute after she left, Sherlock quickly got to work on the latest victim. He checked the body over and saw that Molly hadn’t started the autopsy yet. He quickly got to work planting the evidence he needed to frame the victim’s wife. She had been a pharmaceutical rep for a large firm setting up offices just outside London. Sherlock had learned what drugs the company was manufacturing and with his graduate chemist background knew which ones would negatively interact. He mixed a little cocktail of their latest experimental drugs for various blood clotting issues, cholesterol, anemia, and pancreatitis. Sherlock inserted the needle into a scab just under the third right side rib. He pushed in the plunger forcing the solution into the victim’s blood vessels and lungs. It should make for a fun autopsy. Sherlock refilled the needle with more of the solution and stuck it into the victim’s left eye socket. He carefully bypassed the eye and was able to penetrate the cranial cavity, releasing the solution around the victim’s brain. He did a few chest compressions to move the blood and thus the toxic solution around the body spreading it out.

Sherlock capped the needle and placed it along with the remnant of the solution back in the special bag he had in his coat. He ran upstairs to the lab after returning the body back to his cooler drawer. Five minutes later Molly arrived with the coffee. “Thanks Molly, I hate to dash so quickly, but I just got a call from Lestrade about the case and I need to take off. Do accept my apology and thank you again for getting the coffee. I do appreciate it.”

“That’s OK Sherlock, and I should be thanking you as you paid for it and the muffin I ate on the way back as I realized I was hungry.” Sherlock dashed off heading in the direction of the wife’s office. 

February 26 2pm-Same Day

He was able to get clearance rather easily with the ID he had swiped from Lestrade back in January. He made his way to her office. Sherlock snuck up behind her and temporarily knocked her out. He then set the trap by getting her fingerprints over the needle and bottle that contained the solution. Sherlock then proceeded to get her situated with a suicide note that confessed to her husband’s murder. He used her hands to draw the last of the solution out of the bottle and forced the needle into her chest through to her heart. She stirred for a moment but Sherlock was quicker forcing her to press on the needle’s plunger without leaving any traces of his presence let alone any third party. He left in a flourish closing her office door behind him.

April 16 Half 9pm-Present Day

“This person has precision stitching done almost as if they had been to a surgeon.” John remarked as he looked at the face of the victim. They happened upon this one as they were heading to Scotland Yard. John had again insisted on walking as the day was nice. They had cut through St. James Park and were passing the Flanders Field Memorial when they came upon the body.

“Or the person who did this learned from a surgeon. Thank you John, you teach how to stitch people up quite well. I watched every time you had to stitch me up the last few months. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.” Sherlock replied as John turned to him in shock. Sherlock had been as giddy as a young schoolboy and realized his slip up as soon as he said anything and turned serious. “I heard Donovan talking to you the day we looked at Jennifer Wilson’s body. She had no clue as to how right she was. She and the rest of the Met still don’t. It will stay that way.” Sherlock was firm, allowing no other options by the tone of his voice. John knew that included not being able to move out of Baker Street any time soon. “Also my skills on occasion are employed for Her Majesty’s Security Services. And yes, Mrs. Hudson is not as innocent as she seems. Her husband ran a cartel in Florida before I ensured his death. Too bad he wasn’t one of my victims.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you expect that ending? I'm sure some did.
> 
> And yes I realize that moving the victim of March 20th in the middle of the day with the bandages would be very conspicuous, but Sherlock had his ways because it's Sherlock we're talking about.
> 
> Also I couldn't resist a slight nod to a Star Wars meme I've seen on occasion.


End file.
